


Making Peace

by Aurumite



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurumite/pseuds/Aurumite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owain is fully awake now, peering about the room. “The sun isn’t up yet.” </p><p>“No. We need to be somewhere for sunrise.” </p><p>“An adventure?” </p><p>“Exactly.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Peace

**Author's Note:**

> For a tumblr prompter requesting Lon'qu and Owain father-son bonding.

It’s pitch-black before dawn but Lon’qu moves with grace, kissing Lissa’s forehead before untangling their limbs and slipping to the edge of their bed. She shifts despite his efforts and her fingers brush the bare skin of his back. Long ago he would have shuddered at it. Now he feels more complete when they’re touching somehow, in any little way. 

“Where are you going?” she mumbles. 

“On an adventure. Owain and I will be back before breakfast.” 

“Should I come too?” 

He smirks at her through the darkness, knows she can hear it in his voice: “No girls allowed.” 

That’s good enough for Lissa. He hears her breath even as she sinks back into sleep and he rises from the bed to cross into Owain’s room. Their son thrashes in his sleep and is currently flung sideways, twisted in his blankets, pillow on the floor.

“That can’t be comfortable.” Lon’qu sits next to him and shakes his shoulder gently. “Owain. It’s time to get up.” 

His eyes flutter open. He wakes groggily, but always shakes it off quickly. Lissa says that’s normal for a child. Lon’qu just sees it as the hint of a clear mind and brilliant reflexes. He’ll make a good swordsman, if he wants to learn. For a moment he just watches his son blink the sleep away and prop himself up on his elbows. Five years, since he’d come into the world. How could so much change in five years, yet erase everything that happened before it, like those five were all that mattered? How could Owain seem so big already and yet still so small?

“Thank you, Father,” he murmurs. “I was having a bad dream.” 

“About spiders?” 

“Yes. They were huge. They were going to eat me.” 

Last month Owain had found a wolf spider in his room. Lon’qu was far more interested in finding what sort of large bug such a large spider would be hunting, but Owain was fascinated by its thick legs and hairy body, fascinated to the point of terror, and seeing the creature’s speed when Lon’qu tried to catch and release it had not helped. Neither had Lissa, when Owain overheard a remark she’d meant only for Lon’qu’s ears:  _I sure am glad you caught that thing before we lost it in his room somewhere. Their bites are pretty nasty._

“Irritations only!” Lon’qu had protested. “Not truly venomous like the widows or the brown–” 

It was too late. Owain had developed a crippling fear of spiders. The teeny tiny one he found crawling on the porch outside, the one in the web outside his window, the gorgeous long yellow one in the garden. But Owain was no coward who retreated under his bed at the sight of them (and, after all, there might be more spiders down there). No, Owain wanted them dead. No matter how many times Lon’qu explained what beautiful and intelligent and helpful creatures they were, Owain was out to kill them all. 

Lissa didn’t mind, at first. She wasn’t much one for spiders either. But without them, Lon’qu complained, then would come the mosquitoes, and the flies, and the gnats, and the fleas, and the  _ants_ , and they should really just be keeping spiders as pets–and she agreed that Owain’s bloodlust would have to stop, though she drew the line at pets.

Owain is fully awake now, peering about the room. “The sun isn’t up yet.” 

“No. We need to be somewhere for sunrise.” 

“An adventure?” 

“Exactly.” 

Owain wastes no time, running to his dresser and throwing on a shirt. Lon’qu ducks back into his room for a moment to grab his own, and as he shuts the door after himself, to keep things quiet for Lissa, Owain has a thought. 

“What about Mother?”

“It’s just us men today.” 

Lon’qu crouches to nudge Owain’s nose with his. His son is grinning. His calloused hand is claimed by Owain’s little one as he stands again. 

Only a moment to stuff their feet into their shoes and they’re out the door, into the cool grey air and the damp grass. Lon’qu knows they both look a mess, black hair unbrushed and sticking out in all directions, but there’s no one out to see them this early. They walk for a long while: past the garden, through the yard, down the lane, over the field, toward the forest. When Owain grows tired Lon’qu lifts him onto his shoulders and keeps moving. The sky is lightening by the moment. There’s no time to waste.

“Father, where are we going?” 

“I have to show you something.” 

And then they round the bend in the dirt road, less packed by wagon wheels and feet at this distance. Loose rocks and clods of dirt skitter under his feet as Lon’qu finally spies the meadow he wants. When the sun finally peeks over the horizon, it washes the long grasses in dazzling, dew-covered, whispy white. 

“Oh,” Owain breathes. His hands clench and unclench in Lon’qu’s hair. “How did you know this would be here?” 

“It’s here every morning.” 

“It’s like…like a silk wedding veil with diamonds in it. Like the ocean, only all the waves are cresting at the same time. Like spun sugar.” 

Lon’qu only grunts. At this rate, with such poetics, Lissa will have her wish and Owain will grow up to be a scholar rather than a warrior. 

“Father, what is it?” 

“Why don’t you go find out?” 

He lifts Owain over his neck and back down to the ground, and the boy approaches the rim of the field like one of the waves he spoke of might surge forward and grab him. For a moment he’s captivated by the intricacies before him, until he starts noticing the leggy specks in the corner of each masterpiece. 

“Spiderwebs!” he cries, like he’s been betrayed. “They’re all spiderwebs!” 

“What’s the matter? Just a moment ago you were praising them.” 

“There are so many!” He sounds horrified. 

“Aye.” Lon’qu approaches too, until he’s close enough to rest a hand on Owain’s shoulder. “There are far more spiders in the world than there are people. No matter how many you kill, you will never defeat them all. Why not make your peace with them?” 

“But Mother said they’ll bite me.” 

“Some can,” Lon’qu assents. “But the one that was in your room–before I caught it, did it bite you?” 

The answer comes reluctantly: “No.” 

“And who knows how long it was there before we found it? It simply wanted to eat. Besides.” Lon’qu walks a step forward, half-pushing a wary Owain with the grip on his shoulder. “That was a spider that runs and jumps. It spins no web. For these ones here, the web is their home. They won’t leave it.” 

“What if they have to step out for a moment to go to the market?” 

Lon’qu chuckles. “Food comes to them. They’ll never bother you unless you intrude. And that’s rude of you to begin with, isn’t it, Owain?” 

He demonstrates, putting his fingertips near a huge golden weaver that doesn’t budge. He plucks a far string just slightly and it crawls in that direction. 

“Sorry to tease,” he says, and Owain laughs a little, and sticks his hand out to test his own safety. 

They return as promised: tousled and a little sweaty from the long walk but back by the time Lissa sets breakfast on the table. 

“What was all that about?” she asks after she kisses both of their brows. Owain hops into his chair. 

“Mother, I’ve decided. We shouldn’t kill the spiders anymore. They aren’t doing any harm. Let’s just catch them and release them outside.” 

“Oh my. Someone sounds like they’ve had top secret courage training.” As Owain’s eyes sparkle, Lissa’s turn to Lon’qu. “If that’s the case, could you get the one over the cellar door? I found it there this morning and it’s too high to reach.” 

Lon’qu lets her lead him to the basement stairs. He expects a house spider and instead finds something thick, brown, and tapered, with a mark like a little violin. 

“…We need to kill that one, actually,” he mutters, and glances over his shoulder at Owain, happily digging into his breakfast. What a waste of a morning, to find a truly dangerous spider immediately upon returning. Lissa puts a hand on his back. 

“After he’s finished I’ll take him out for  _mother_ -son time,” she offers in a whisper, and Lon’qu nods his thanks. 


End file.
